


Leap of Faith

by thatonegamergirl117



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Nothing, barn au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonegamergirl117/pseuds/thatonegamergirl117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you give an equestrian the entire Hamilton album? A barn AU no one asked for! </p>
<p>John Laurens is new to Virginia, he's just happy to be away from his father and the nightmare of a barn.<br/>Alexander Hamilton just wants to have his name known someday, hopefully in the Olympics.<br/>George Washington just wants to survive the year, goddammit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John Laurens sits in his car for a second as the engine is shut off, taking a deep breath at actually being here, in Virginia, 500 miles away from his home. The two barns he's parked between are intimidating to say the least. The barn which Washington simply described as "the larger one" over email is painfully obvious. It towers to the point of casting a shadow over the small barn across the driveway. It's walls are white with a red tin roof, an open aisle way cast black with the contrast of the bright sun outside. With one more deep breath, John pulls his keys out of the ignition and steps outside. He walks to the barn, figuring someone must be around to point him in the right direction. Traffic was good on the highway, so John was half an hour early and not sure if Washington - or whoever the barn owner had in mind to meet him - would be there to greet him.

Walking inside the barn, he notices how clean it is. The concrete floors are covered by rubber mats that look perfectly washed, even the rafters above him seem to hold no cobwebs. The stall doors are varnished medium-brown wood on the bottom half, with vertical metal bars spread in two inch increments occupying the top. If someone locked me in one of those, I wouldn't be able to get out, John thinks, then immediately admonishes himself for it. This isn't the Laurens Saddleseat Ranch, things are different here, right?

Leaning against one of said stalls is a man with black hair, pulled tightly into a ponytail. He's bent over a phone muttering to himself and typing quickly. John just barely hears him mutter, "If I see one more person riding with that bit incorrectly I will jump through the Internet and strangle someone."

John snorts, imagining this man's reaction to Henry's barn and training styles. Ponytail Man - a bit hypocritical considering John's currently small bun, but he rolls with it - turns suddenly.

"I'm guessing you're the new working student, otherwise I'm going to have to warn you that I carry a hoof pick with me at all times," Ponytail Man warns.

John holds up his hands in mock surrender, "That would be me - John Laurens, nice to meet you."

"Alexander Hamilton, working student," Ponytail Man responds. As John's eyes adjust to the indoor lighting, he notices the slight dark circles encompassing Alexander's brown eyes. If it wasn't for the signs of exhaustion and how thin he was, John found Alexander to be fairly handsome. However, almost every working student John knew was thin as they were all living off a minimum salary, and John wasn't about to voice the latter end of his observations.

"Welcome to Mount Vernon Equestrian Center, you're here to make my life easier so don't screw up." Alexander says, his voice betraying any possibility of it being a serious threat. John laughs, or at least tries to. Being on the other side of things was scarier than it seemed, and no one had even yelled or thrown projectiles yet.  
"So, where'd Washington find you, then?" Alex keeps talking, either oblivious to John's discomfort or enjoying watching him squirm.

"South Carolina, although we've never actually met. My da- family owns a Tennessee Walker ranch down there, and I was looking for a change," John explains, hoping it comes across that the change was neutral. It wouldn't do to upset the man he'd probably be working with most days. He hoped it was enough to sate Alexander's curiosity, but of course John was never that lucky.

"I see. Up here we run our-" His voice has grown cold, and John notes the use of our, not the or Mr. Washington's, "-barn much differently than what you're probably used to."

"I look forward to it," John says, before he can even think. It earns a small laugh from Alexander, and just like that they're back to friendly-neutral.

Alexander dives right into business after that. Explaining where everything's kept, the daily schedule (except for Sunday's, Alex says, Mr. Washington gives us that day off and does the chores with his wife), and basic ground rules. Although they haven't even moved from the front of the barn, John is already feeling overwhelmed. Sure, he knew how to handle himself around a barn, but everything was so different.

"Hamilton!" The voice startles both boys. Alex muffles a curse before quickly walking towards a gap in the wall of stall doors, probably the arena entrance, John thinks as he follows behind. Upon turning the corner, he stops on seeing who could only be George Washington in the flesh mounted on who could only be the currently most popular horse in the equestrian community: Nelson. He's a grey thoroughbred, famous not only for being so successful for his breed today, but also for his frankly mundane name. Next to Totilas and Valegro, no one expected a black American and his horse, named Nelson of all things, to actually go and break Valegro's world record the day his rider had just set it. "Alexander, there you are. You must watch this new pole grid I have - ah, you must be John Laurens, then?" His voice is deep and soft, strikingly different from the gruff respectful tone on the interviews John has listened to online.

"Yes, sir, it's a pleasure to meet you," John has never been more thankful for Henry Laurens' constant drilling of respect towards his elders. Washington steps off his grey mount, handing the reins to Hamilton as he opens the gate. He's wearing a plain black polo shirt and grey breeches with well-worn, but polished, black boots. It's almost startling to see the man outside of his signature military uniform, being one of the few people who chooses to wear it through all his competitions. Washington starts taking off his gloves, his whip tucked underneath an arm, the Velcro being pulled apart breaking the silence.

"Please, call me George," he says, "Alex has a bad habit of being much too formal, you'd think we were still in the military with how he acts." Both men step aside as Hamilton leads Nelson - John could reach out and touch him at this distance - down the aisle to a grooming stall.  
His words don't put John at ease. If anything, they make him more nervous of messing up. Surely, everyone knows him as "The General" out in the ring for more than his uniform? Yes, John decides, Alex probably has the right idea, the safe idea.

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," John responds, returning Washington's handshake. The General's hand is firm and calloused, much like his father's. However, where dad's - Henry's, John corrects - hands were always tense and ready to strike, Washington's are relaxed and loose.

"I must admit, I was surprised to find you of all people seeking a working student position - at an all discipline barn no less," Washington comments, "Have you ever ridden dressage?" John blushes, suddenly embarrassed by his idea that moving here would erase his past. Instead, it seemed everyone wanted to know.

"No, sir, my previous experience was strictly saddle seat. I was hoping I could expand my horizons here" and not get fired, he doesn't say the last half. While he technically already got the job, this first conversation is feeling more and more like an interview.

"No matter, I have a feeling you'll be a quick study. I've seen some of your recorded shows and, while the judges may not agree with me, I was impressed with your riding. Frankly, I probably wouldn't have hired you if you had placed well. Saddle seat has always been lacking finesse for my tastes," Washington explains, quickly adding the last part at John's startled look. "You seemed very calm in all the excitement, especially how you handled that unfortunate accident in - when was it - 2014."

John blushes again, although for better reasons this time. Not even ten minutes and The General was complimenting him? He still remembers that show two years ago. His mount was an older mare - LSR Shesa Singin Lady was her name, his mother chose it - and they had just called for a canter when another rider crashed right into him. John and his mount had both fallen, although he was lucky enough to have been thrown a couple feet away rather than landing underneath the mare. He'd bounced quickly to his feet and kept Lady calm, walking her out of the ring while everyone else seemed to be having a minor meltdown. Only after untacking, brushing, and feeding the mare had John allowed himself to sit down and realize his chest hurt and his left hand was numb from the wrist down. The verdict from a doctor later that evening was two broken ribs and a shattered bone in his wrist.

"Thank you, sir," John says, not quiet sure what else he can add to the conversation.

"Walk with me, I'll give you the full tour. Have you had dinner yet? Martha - my wife, she keeps the smaller barn across the drive for her non-profit - is anticipating your company tonight," Washington is already walking down the aisle way, and John rushes to catch up. Not even ten minutes in, and he was already running behind.


	2. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is an anxious Southern gentleman, and Lafayette has a wardrobe issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I'm getting this up a day early but I'm not that happy with it so take it as you will. I try and keep the barn-speak to a minimum so hopefully the story doesn't get too confusing for all y'all normal people out there that are smart enough to not ride horses. 
> 
> I'm so sorry this is short but hopefully Laf makes up for that.

The barn is even more complex than John expected as Washington shows him around. Each horse has a chart with their specific feeding requirements and there's a scale every couple stalls to weigh hay and grain. Turnout required knowing which horses got along, and learning that certain horses need a very gentle hand to keep from potentially dying while handling them, as Alexander put it.  
Even stall cleaning is complex as a mare seems to be allergic to every mold and fungi which requires her stall to be disinfected every three days. The list keeps building until finally Washington declares that everything else could wait, and Martha should have dinner ready by now.

All three men make their way down to the house together. John notes how well-kept the gardens surrounding the yard are. Alex is ranting on about the local show barn's inability to balance it's finances which is why they keep raising their show fees, according to him.

The inside of the house is even more impressive than the external red roof, white bricks and columns. The entryway is large and open, with a dramatic vaulted ceiling. Washington leads them into the dining rooms that contains a large dark table spanning at least ten feet of John had to guess. A lady is walking along the table, setting down a large bowl of salad and fidgeting with a centerpiece of flowers. Upon hearing them enter, she stops what she's doing and offers a beaming smile.

"John, I'd like you to meet my wife, Martha. Martha, this is John," Washington introduces them.

Martha is a tall woman, rivaling George (he can't just call him by Washington now, can he?) in size. She has tightly curled pitch-black hair that she keeps just below her shoulders, reminding John fondly of his mother. "It's a pleasure to meet you, John," Martha says. Her smile is genuine, not the usual I'm-being-payed-so-I'll-try-to-be-nice smile that is so common on the show circuit. "George has been very excited for your arrival. He won't admit it, but running a barn with forty horses is a little more work than he and Alex can handle."

"I look forward to the experience, ma'am," John replies. They all sit down at the dinner table, which has been loaded with more food than seems possible.

"Oh, quit. Even my patients call me Martha here," Martha tells John. She starts scooping mashed potatoes onto her plate. The bowl of potatoes are passed around, and John takes a polite serving before handing them over to Alexander.

The dinner continues with quiet conversation between eating. George and Alex discuss preliminary plans for a large show next year, trying to decide which horses will be ready and if they dare bring one of the greenies to debut. John smiles and nods at the right times. He answers a couple questions from Martha of his life in South Carolina, but keeps the responses short. In turn, he learns that the non-profit she runs is an equine-assisted therapy with a focus on abused children and veterans. It's all interesting, noble even, but truthfully he could care less at the moment. John really just wants to go back to his small apartment and curl up on his bed for the next eight hours. He is grateful to be welcomed so openly, but it feels like a wave is building up inside him, ready to crash at any moment. Luckily, a suitable distraction from John possibly imploding on himself makes itself known.

"Oh my god, Marie-Joseph Gilbert Lafayette where are your pants?!" Martha exclaims from across the dinner table.

"That's not even my full name!" A French-accented voice whines.

John turns in his seat towards the dining room doorway and is welcomed to the site of a tall, lean man with only a thin saddle pad keeping him decent. As John takes in the comical sight in the doorway, he hears a peal of laughter next to him that can only be Alexander. It's full and utterly happy, something John never imagined would come out of Alex. John imagines him being the reason for Alex's laughter, before banishing the thought from his mind. Male riders were rare enough, what were the chances he was working alongside a gay male equestrian? A gay male equestrian that was also attracted to John? Nope. Might as well crush his hopes and dreams now, John thinks bitterly.

"Laf," Alex chokes out between laughs, "please tell me Herc stole your pants because he was offended at the fit."

The tall man sighs and screws his face into annoyance, "Non, mon ami, I had an unfortunate accident in the arena with Buttercup, and I did not wish to dirty Martha's, how you say, _immticulate_ house."

"Immaculate, Lafayette," George corrects, rising from the table.

"Wait - accident as in you landed in horse shit?" Alex breaks into another round of laughter as Lafayette nods, "Jesus Christ that's even better."

"Language, Alex!" Washington shouts from wherever he disappeared to. He returns soon after with a pair of sweatpants and hands them to Lafayette. "Please do us all a favor and just keep your breeches on next time. These hardwoods have lasted over two hundred years, they can survive whatever you get dragged through."

John looks away, blushing again as Lafayette drops the saddle pad and pulls on the sweats in front of everyone. He seems to be blushing a lot today, what did he do to deserve this?

"Oh, you have a guest," the French man - named Marie if Martha is to be believed - comments, "I apologize for my spectacle. I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. Most call me Lafayette here, I am told my name is too long."

"John Laurens, nice to meet you," he responds.

George sits back down, and Lafayette takes the seat next to him. "Lafayette is a rider from France. He studies with me, and in turn his family sends us foals and prospect stallions from their breeding farm in Europe."

John nods along quietly to the rest of the talk at the table. Eventually, dinner is finished, and he's being bid goodnight by the Washington's. Once back to his meager apartment, John doesn't even bother turning on the lights as he trades his riding clothes for pajamas and promptly passes out curled on top of his bedsheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Any and all historical parallels are purely coincidental and the author knows nothing.


	3. The Author Spends Too Much Time On Exposition imsosorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Herc, Alex can't hold his alcohol (or his feelings), John is Gay and Anxious
> 
> Wash would really like to murder Henry Laurens 
> 
> Martha's ponies are the best ponies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overall fic tw for past child abuse leading to anxiety, panic attacks, etc. This is a fairly heavy theme in the fic for John seeing as all I do with my life is project myself onto fictional characters. Henry Laurens is based off my father and my old abusive riding instructors.  
> First paragraph break: anxiety attack from John's POV  
> Second paragraph break: unreliable narrative because John is a wreck and literally this is based of true events okay please be safe I love each and every one of you 
> 
> Equestrian Terms:  
> untacking: taking off bridle, saddle, etc  
> shadbelly: type of riding coat that is for higher-level riding (if you wear it at lower levels you WILL be called an elitist piece of shit)  
> piroutte: the horse pretty much spins in a fancy small circle. Originally used for military riders to circle a single person and stab them to death (yes, I basically spend my life training to do a thing that was designed for The Murder)

It's been a week working at Mount Vernon Equestrian Center, and John is beyond ready for Saturday to end and his day off to begin. The whole week was a flurry of avoiding minor disasters and trying to stay in Washington's good graces.  
  
Monday and Tuesday went fairly smoothly, other than Ferdinand opening his paddock gate to frolic in the driveway (it took all of them, including Martha and Lafayette, to catch the stubborn stallion). Luckily John had not been the one to put him out that day and, therefore, simply steered clear for an hour or so while Alex no doubt got to face George's punishment alone.

  
He'd also learned that Alex actually lived in the barn. As in, had set up a college dorm type situation in the spare tack room. John had been untacking a horse in Washington's training program when the mare decided to wipe her slobbered face all over his light blue polo shirt. The green streak of saliva was beyond obvious, running from his belt buckle to midway up his chest. When Alex saw John, he ran into his room and grabbed a spare, albeit almost too small, shirt. After that, John kept an extra set of clothes in his car.

  
On Wednesday he'd arrived at 6am to no one around. The horses were all nickering at him for food, nodding their heads dramatically as he walked  past the stalls. The Washington's house seemed deserted as well. John was stuck deciding to go ahead and feed them or wait for someone to show up.  
After dealing with the familiar feeling of dread in his chest, John finally decided to feed the hay. Luckily, it seemed to be the right decision as Alex woke up soon after and began helping in his half-asleep state. He'd left John to finish grain as he mumbled something about coffee and staggered out of barn.  
John still felt like an outsider to Washington's group, but hopefully tonight would change that. Alex had mentioned going out for drinks, and John readily took him up on the offer. Even if he was nervous about being with Alex in a more casual setting, a night of alcohol and bad flirting, even if it was just with women, was beyond overdue.

* * *

  
"Alex you made it! And John, too, welcome mis amis!" Lafayette calls across the bar, raising his half-full bottle of beer.  
  
Alex laughs, pulling John along behind him towards the table in the back. "Lafayette - America's favorite equestrian Frenchman drinking cheap three dollar beer? Scandalous!" Alex exclaims back. A third large man is sitting at the table as well, and John lets Alex take the seat next to him so he's safely seated on the outer edge.  
  
Lafayette sneers before turning to the third, intimidating man. Was everyone in Virginia taller than him? "Please avenge my dignity, I beg you," he dramatically falls across the man's lap.  
  
The third man breaks into a smile before playfully shoving him off, and turning his attention to John. "You're John right? The new working student?" John nods, and he sticks out his hand in return, "Hercules Mulligan, for all your tack and show clothing needs."

"Mi amour is the manager for the local tack shop, and the best tailor you'll ever find. He can fit a shadbelly like nobody's business," Laf explained, giving Herc's cheek a sloppy kiss. 

Alex tenses next to John, looking at him warily. John knows what he's thinking. That Laf just displayed affection for another man, in front of some kid from South Carolina. From a father that was blatantly traditional and everyone knew it. Solutions? He could come out, but he hadn't done that since Martha and it wasn't information he gave lightly, especially to a group of strangers. He could play into Alex's assumptions and not risk anything getting back to his family about being friendly with 'dirty queers', but he would also be risking his job. Even if Washington never heard about it, Alex would surely start to sabotage him? He fidgeted some more under Alex's gaze, Laf and Herc too caught up in their own conversation to notice, before finally citing the need for fresh air and escaping outside. 

John sat against the brick wall of the bar. It was in the type of area that nobody bothered him as they walked by. He thought getting away from his dad would be liberating, but even here he seemed to haunt every action John took. He didn't know what he expected, to leave the state and magically feel all better? To lose that tight coil of uncertainty which resides in his chest and start running around in a Black Lives Matter shirt with rainbow fringe? He snorted at the thought. Even now, where he seems to have gotten beyond lucky with a group of understanding people, he couldn't open himself up in the slightest. 

"John," Alex shakes his shoulder, but John hardly notices, "Hey John, you okay, man?"

He keeps breathing heavily. There's not enough air. There's too much  _stuff._ His dad isn't here he's gone he's far away why is this happening this should've stopped this isn't happening no no n-

"Shit, okay, um, dammit. John, can I touch your hands?" Alex interrupts his internal dialogue. He shoves something soft and smooth into his hands. It feels nice. John keeps running his hands along it, back and forth as he hits the ends. "Good. Okay breathe. En espanol, si? Uno, dos, tres, quatro. Bueno. Aspira. Uno, dos, tres, quatro, espira. Bueno. Tu estas bien, John?"

He follow's Alex's directions. He vaguely registers Alex sitting next to him, providing a barrier from the people entering the bar. 

"Asi Asi, uh yeah I'm - I'm okay," He responds. "Why did you - how did you know I spoke Spanish?" 

Alex blushes lightly, a tinge John can barely see in waning light. "I overheard you speaking it in the barn to the horses while grooming." 

"I'm sorry about all that" John gestures inside, "I'm not like, well, I'm not like many people in South Carolina if you're worried about that."

Alex laughs and leans against John's shoulder, breaking the tension. "I figured, seeing as you don't seem to take after your father. I'm sorry I seemed standoffish in there, we haven't had a new person to the group in awhile and, well, we're still in the south technically, so, peace?" He holds out a hand, and John returns the gesture. Together they make their way back inside to the table, Alexander easing back into the conversation naturally. John continues to stay mostly silent, until Hercules inquires about the saddleseat discipline. With just a few too many beers downed, he ends up going on a rant about all the horrible training techniques that come with the sport, and is supported by Alexander when he exclaims loudly that tradition doesn't warrant continuing the practice which the southern states have always tried to use as an excuse when going against moral ideas. 

They all stagger out of the bar shouting "Black lives matter!" and laughing as disgruntled white men steer clear. Alex and John climbed into his car, promising to sleep off the buzz to Herc and Laf before both collapsing in the backseat, a fit of drunken giggles consuming them. It was a clear fall night, and plenty warm to spend a couple hours dozing in the car. However, if John decided to lay a little closer to Alex that night - well - that wasn't anybody's business. 

* * *

 

Today is Monday. The Monday that John gets his first lesson with George. The Monday after that evening with Laf, and Hercules, and Alexander. An evening that seemed stuck in John's head no matter what he did to distract himself. 

He goes over the list of boarders he's already met, trying to forget Alex and his hair and his eyes and his passion - Burr is nice and always cleans up after himself, although his horse is a nightmare to handle; Jefferson and Madison could ride, but beyond that they are total slobs in the barn; Charles Lee is an enigma, one day he's perfectly nice and the next he is upset over a slight imperfection in his horses' stalls.  
  
Now he's brushing a horse purely for himself. The big chestnut gelding, Kid, was actually a horse George borrowed from Martha's therapy program. He said that he wanted John on someone steady for his first lesson to judge his skill level before putting him on anyone else. As much as he agreed with Washington's idea, it still stung to be treated like a newbie while Alex ran around riding anyone George pointed at.  
  
"Are you ready to go, son?" George startles John from his thoughts - his hands had been running over the saddle needlessly checking all the buckles and straps again.  
  
"Yes, sir," John replies, he always managed to feel a little bit useless around Washington. He goes to grab Kid's bridle when George puts a hand on his arm and stops him.  
  
"We won't be needing that today. I'm going to put you on the lunge line and work on your position, Alex will be helping us out if that's alright?"  
  
"I - um - yes, sir," John fumbles. It has been a week yet he still couldn't seem to figure out what everyone wanted. The constant questions and check-ins were unnerving, what was everyone expecting from him?  
  
Surprisingly, Alexander is quiet as he warms up Kid on the large circle, and remains so as George instructs John through the proper form.  
  
"Now, Tennessee Walkers are all about the looks, but in dressage this is wrong. If we get caught up in how it looks, then we lose the true fundamental feel and proper mechanics. In the Calvary - where historians argue dressage originated - they wanted an effective horse and rider. Someone who could change direction with a thought and pirouette around an enemy at the twitch of the seat." George begins his explanation as Alex keeps John and Kid walking along the circle. The chestnut's steps were rolling and smooth, he understood why Martha keeps him for the therapy program.  
"If you aren't fully trustful of your mount, then they will return that lack of faith. Your job is to convince the horse that you will keep them safe - or in our modern case today, you will be keeping them proper."  
  
John nods along, trying to process everything George said. His previous training was all about more - higher, faster, more drama - but this was totally different. Already he could feel the strain on his hips from trying to keep his legs under him rather than in front. Yet, at the same time he felt a peacefulness to the whole thing. He was more relaxed, less worried about how he was doing and more focused on the what. There was no talk of future competitions or winning and losing, instead George went on to explain every movement and exercise with purpose. It reminded John of his first days learning to ride with his mother when he was young. 

"Yes!" Suddenly George shouts, startling John out of the calm lull he had developed.

"I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't paying attention," John rattles out quickly, trying to figure out what George was doing. 

George signaled Alex to stop, approaching John as the other working student grinned enthusiastically in the background. Did he miss a joke? Did he screw up? Was that why Alex was so happy, to finally not be the one in trouble? 

John tensed further as George patted Kid before laying his hand on John's thigh, lightly correcting a subtle mistake in his heel placement, which John mirrored on his other side. "Where'd you go?" He asked. 

"Excuse me, sir?" John looked at him in confusion. 

"Just before I startled you, you were finally relaxed. Your hips rocked at the pelvis in rhythm with the horse. Your weight sunk down and your back was flexible. What changed? Did you feel it?" 

John felt embarrassed. He had done something right yet didn't know how. What if George asked him to repeat it? How could he do that again? "I'm sorry, sir, I-" He trailed off. Pathetic. He should know better than to not have an answer by now. 

George patted his thigh and stepped back. "It's alright, son, these things take time. Try to remember what you were doing when that happened. Some people find talking to be useful, others need silence. Let me know what you need, I'm here to help."

The lesson continued for another half hour, with George repeating the mantra of John speaking up throughout the whole thing. By the end he was at least able to maintain a fairly decent position, and recited to George what he thought the general would want to hear when asked if he had any comments about the ride. 

"I'm very happy with how you did, John," George says as he watches John groom Kid, "I think we'll work very well together, and you have a lot of potential. Remember, dressage is just training. Any mistakes we make along the way are merely lessons to be learned from - no more, no less."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I didn't end it there I would've never stopped the angsty internal projections. George just wants to protect this child okay. Kid is an actual horse I knew, he was great. 
> 
> Translations (I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO ACCENTS ON MY COMPUTER I'M SO SORRY)  
> En espanol, si? Uno, dos, tres, quatro. Bueno. Aspira. Uno, dos, tres, quatro, espira. Bueno. Tu estas bien, John  
> \- In Spanish, yes? One, two, three, four. Good. Breathe in. One, two, three, four, breathe out. Good. Are you okay/[well], John?  
> Asi Asi  
> \- So, so [Read, "meh"]


	4. When will my fluff return from the angst war?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We take a break from John's POV to see how Alex is faring with his Gay Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! I'm back, sorry about that. My brain sucks, my doctor doesn't believe me, and frankly depression is horrible  
> Oh. And finals. Don't do five AP classes kids, it will fuck you up.   
> A short chapter to bide the time. 
> 
> Equestrian terms: the reason he thinks it's so sweet to check on the horses again at night is because 1) a day at a barn is exhausting and all you want to do is take as few steps as possible to your bed and 2) horses are prone to a digestive problem that can kill them (colic) that tends to pop up an hour or two after eating fresh food

When George had first approached Alexander about taking on another working student, he had been very skeptical. Especially once he found out it was going to be none other than John Laurens, son of Henry Laurens: world renown saddleseat rider. For once, though, Alex was glad he was wrong. John was gentle and soft and gorgeous. He was nothing like his father, and fit in so well with the current barn dynamic. Alexander loved a cute boy, but he had been refraining from doing anything with the other man while they worked together. He liked John, but he liked his position as George's right hand man more. Now, Alex wasn't so sure. 

John was so irresistible. As in, Alex was praying for another horse slobber incident kind of irresistible. When he got a peek of that man's bare chest as full of freckles as his face - Alex's imagination went wild. He wondered where else those freckles might be. Or, well, he wondered that in his own time. It would be downright embarrassing to be thinking of John that way while working. Breeches didn't exactly allow for much leeway in the case of hiding boners. (Alex learned that the hard way when he first met Lafayette.)

Not to mention, the guy's personality was downright adorable too. The way he sweetly spoke to the horses in Spanish when he didn't think anyone was around, or wouldn't hesitate to do an extra check on the horses after a long day before he went home. Everything about him screamed perfect, and Alex didn't even know if he was gay. He was totally screwed. What had he gotten himself into?

 


End file.
